Citrus-flavored Tap Water
by September Wolves
Summary: Peter Parker is the new orderly at SHIELD Institute for the Metally Unstable. Stark and Rogers thinks Peter is their long lost son, Banner has anger issues and is surprisingly flexible, Barton fails to woo superintendent Coulson, Thor is tasered repeatedly, Loki hates everyone. Alternate Universe where Nick Fury runs a mental institute for the rich and crazy.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Peter Parker is the new orderly at SHIELD Institute for the Metally Unstable. Darcy gets a new slave.**

**Stark and Rogers thinks Peter is their long lost son, Banner has anger issues and is surprisingly flexible, Barton fails to woo superintendent Coulson, Thor is tasered repeatedly, Loki hates everyone, Charles is less innocent than he seems, Erik has the emotional equivalence to soap suds, Logan looks constipated all the time, and Wade Wilson is surprisingly good with children. Peter refuses to be scared of the weird patients.**

**Alternate Universe where Nick Fury runs a mental institute for the rich and crazy,and Peter finds out being different isn't necessarily a bad thing. And maybe finds love along the way.**

* * *

Peter Parker stood awkward and gangly by the door of the nurse station, his hands twisting nervously in his old grey sweater. The nurse, a stunningly beautiful dark-haired young woman with a huge cleavage and a pink taser, loaded several Manila folders into his arms, stood back to study the new orderly, and grinned.

"It's not everyday I get such a pretty slave." Her grin widened when Peter shifted the folders awkwardly onto his other arm. "Name's Darcy, I'd shake your hand but those folders look like they're busy introducing themselves to your arms, so..."

She motioned for him to follow her, and they walked through a pair of heavy metal doors with the words "Ward Six" painted in neon red letters. Despite his nervousness, an underlying excitement had emerged, coiling in the pit of Peter's stomach.

He was taking a year off his college studies and focusing all his attention on the hundred or so pages of behaviorism essay he was attempting, and applying for a job at SHIELD Institute for the Mentally Unstable seemed a perfect choice. Well it was either this or that creepy state prison hospital for the criminally insane. Peter had made up his mind pretty quickly when his shoe had slipped in some mysterious red fluid on the floor of his last visit to the hospital. And so he found himself in a stiff blue-green colored uniform that reminded Peter strangely of the mint-flavored toothpaste in shady motels, and following the busty nurse named Darcy down a well-lit corridor.

Doors were spaced evenly along the corridor and each was made of heavy metal, with a complicated key card lock and an old sensible thick bolt. Every door also had a plaque with a name and number under a small latch that Peter was sure was a small window. In summary, SHIELD IMU was the place where rich people sent their crazy aunts, and casually chatted about the place during tea parties with occasional bites of tiny sandwiches speared on toothpicks. Apparently all rich people had crazy relatives according to Harry. It was the law or something.

"This is the third floor, housing wards five and six." Darcy said over her shoulder as they shuffled silently though the corridor. Peter tried to catch up to her, but the work slippers he had been forced to wear for sanitary reasons made it impossible to run fast.

"On this floor, you'll find most of the 'lighter crazies', mostly those who dove off the cliff of eccentricity and survived mostly intact." She grinned at him and slowed down so Peter could catch up. "You'll be working on this floor for the first few weeks, enough time to get used to the general crazy around here."

A beep echoed suddenly, making Peter jump, his left slipper momentarily spinning away from him. Darcy frowned down at his feet as he struggled to retrieve his escaping slipper.

"We'd better get you smaller ones next time, remind me won't cha?" She turned to a nearby door with an ornate redwood plaque engraved with elegant writing. Peter squinted at the letters behind his glasses.

'Charles Xavier, WS024' it said.

Darcy pressed a small button on the side of the door. "Your afternoon tea and biscuits will be here shortly, Charles. What do you need?"

"I'm afraid I've run out of writing paper, dear girl. Would you mind fetching me some more?" A polite British voice chirped from the speaker. "Ah, I see you have brought the new orderly along. Please remind Erik to prepare twenty pounds the next time we meet up for chess, he lost the bet after all."

Peter blinked in amazement and turned to Darcy for an explanation. She shrugged carelessly and went over to a side door, opened it with a key and pulled out a packet of white paper. "Charles is one of my favorites, odd but polite, and no, I don't know why he knew you were coming."

She opened Charles's door with her card and Peter gasped. So this was what Harry had meant when he said the mental institute for the rich wasn't that bad. The room was laid out in rich dark colors, mahogany and redwood chairs and tables. It was large and spacious, with a window overlooking the grounds. Thick bars and metal nets were placed outside the window but the room was nonetheless, surprisingly cozy.

Charles was curled against a cushion by the window, a soft charcoal stick in one hand and drawing over something in his lap. He looked up and smiled at the two nursing staff standing by the door. Darcy set the paper by the door and waved cheerfully. The man was short, about Peter's height, with a mop of thick brown hair, pale transparent skin and the bluest eyes Peter had ever seen. He wore the standard soft white button down gown of the institute and walked barefoot.

"Hello Peter, its a pleasure to meet you. I'm sure we will have a great time chatting with each other. I'm very interest in the paper you are writing." He held out his hand and smiled widely. Peter turned to Darcy with an expression of utter bewilderment. Darcy shrugged. He took the man's hand and shook gingerly. Charles's smile widened.

"Ah, I see changes coming your way, Mr. Parker."

When they came out, he rounded on Darcy. "How did he know my name and that I was writing a paper?"

She shrugged. "He's crazy? Charles says he can read people's minds."

Peter blinked and digested this chunk of information in silence as they walked on.

"Not everyone in here is as harmless as Charles." Darcy warned as they rounded the corner. "The patients in the ninth ward are all in straitjackets and they have to be sedated before the staff can go in and clean up. Their rooms are padded cells. Imagine Hannibal Lecter style. Anyway, you won't be meeting those unless Director Fury really wants you dead. In a month or two, you can meet the guys up in the seventh ward, the ones that tend to go for bodily harm. Sixth ward is like a basket of kittens compared to those."

Peter gave a shaky 'oh, okay' in acknowledgement.

"You'll meet the people in those charts I gave you tomorrow in the common room. Don't believe in anything Stark says, don't mention anything about World War Two with Rogers, don't ever sneak up on Barton from behind, and try not to anger Banner. Also, don't bring anything metal into the room when Lehnsherr is present. He's just been moved down to the sixth ward a week ago, so we'll have to see how that goes. Oh, and don't talk too much with Charles when Lehnsherr is in the room."

Peter gulped.

Darcy turned around and patted Peter on the arm. "Don't worry Petey. You can always turn to me for assistance. And I will gift you with your own trusty SHIELD taser, which now comes in an assortment of colors! When in doubt, give it a zap!"

Right. So maybe Harry had been right when he said Peter had made the wrong choice when he decided on writing that paper.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: Peter hadn't expected 'playtime' to be so normal.**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Peter hadn't expected the recreation time to be so...normal.

He'd expected many things, expected thick tension, expected guards to lead everyone out in shackles. Instead, Darcy pressed a button up at the nurse station and only one guard stood watch as the half dozen or so men dressed in white shuffled out of their rooms.

Peter stood in the corner of the common room and watched as the patients of Sixth Ward ambled in to the room and went to their familiar spots. There was a monstrous-size model of the Eiffel Tower made out of little wooden toothpicks on one table, and Bruce Banner sat down next to the half-finished project and put on a pair of brown-rimmed glasses.

A tall blonde man Peter recognized as Steve Rogers, made his way over to the window and picked up a thick sketch pad. Charles, whom Peter had met the other day, skipped cheerfully alongside a glowering man that looked like he had been the product of a human crossbreeding with a shark. They made their way to the only chessboard in the room and sat down across from each other. Charles waved at Peter, but the glowering man, undoubtedly Erik, prevented Peter from waving back.

Another man, short and brown-haired, walked in last, his hands in his pockets and swaggering like he owned the place. Tony Stark, narcissist and prone to alcohol abuse, not to mention also a list of other metal disorders a mile long. Peter rubbed his face warily, did a double take and realized there was one person missing.

"Miss Lewis? Where is patient Clint Barton?"

Darcy slapped him on the back, her grin too cheerful. "Atta girl! That's what I'm talking about. You finally noticed one was missing? Remember to keep clear count at all times, understood?"

She cleared her throat and went to the nurse table in the corner. "Clint misbehaved yesterday, and he's in his room, no playtime today. Superintendent Coulson is going to deal with him. And call me Darcy."

Darcy beckoned him over to the desk and pulled out six cups. She started distributing multicolored pills into each one.

"They seem pretty normal to me..." Peter said as Banner started on his epic project and Stark pulled up a chair next to him, passing little blunt bamboo sticks to the other man.

Darcy snorted. "Yeah, that's because they're drugged to the eyeballs 24/7. Take the pills away? You should have seen what happened to the last orderly that was here."

A shiver ran down Peter's spine. He'd heard of the horrible things patients did to the staff of insane asylums.

"Alright, line up here and take your pills." Darcy called to the people in the room. Peter watched everyone shuffle into a crooked line in front of the nurse station.

Darcy handed him a box of latex gloves. "Make sure everyone swallows their pills."

Peter groaned inwardly and reluctantly put on a pair of gloves. Charles came first, swallowed his pills and opened his mouth to show Peter pearly white teeth. The rest weren't so cooperative. Erik nearly took a finger off when Peter gingerly felt around his tongue. Stark winked at him and cheekily licked Peter's finger. Banner didn't feel like having someone poke around in his mouth today and Darcy gingerly told Peter not to attempt the endeavor.

Rogers came in last and put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "Son, what are you doing here? Your dad and I were worried sick?"

Peter stared. Rogers stared back like it was the most natural thing ever.

"My d...dad?" Peter choked out. The blonde man smiled and gestured over his shoulder.

"Tony, of course." He said. "You're such a silly boy, Peter."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: Peter has a close call.**

**AN:This story will probably get pretty serious later on, and there will be plot. Yay~ And Peter will probably get hurt.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Peter Parker sat stiffly in front of Steve Rogers, Tony Stark and Charles Xavier. The rest of the occupants in the room went on with their business.

"Tea?" Charles asked cheerfully and offered a paper cup. Peter shook his head bashfully and went on to fiddle with his fingers. He could feel Erik Lehnsherr's murderous stare on the back of his neck like a sunburn. Charles had forbade him to come closer than six feet.

"Hmm, I wouldn't either. The paper cups make everything taste disgusting." Stark muttered approvingly. "But porcelain was banned after Loki smashed a pot on his brother's head and nearly gutted him with a shard of china. Thor got stitches."

Peter winced at the words and gave Darcy and the three members of security a pleading look. Darcy flashed him a sarcastic grin and went back to fiddling with something at the nurse station.

"Son, how are you doing?" Rogers asked, his face a mask of regret. Peter cringed at the emotional 'son'. "Your dad and I should have tried to contact you..."

He reached for Stark's hand and grasped it. Peter watched in horror and fascination as the blonde man squeezed out a few emotional tears. He heard Darcy snort in the distance.

"Your uncle Charles was supposed to support you after we were you know... But he also got you know..." Rogers continued. Charles nodded sympathetically.

Right, Peter thought, just how many 'relatives' of his did they think were incarcerated here?

"Okay, yard time." Darcy interrupted their crazy tea party. Peter almost cried in relief.

He stood next to Darcy, watching the patients of Ward Six step out into the enclosed yard. The yard was their only chance to go outside and take a few breaths of fresh air and soak in the sun, and they cherished the once a week experience.

"So? How's the first day?" Darcy nudged Peter. The young man sighed warily and shook his head in amazement.

"Are they always like this?" He asked. The paper he wanted to write now seemed so difficult to even start. His brain hurt.

"Well, you're lucky. One of the orderlies nearly went crazy from all their tricks. Ward Six is one of the lesser crazy bunch, but don't ever let your guard down. They are still mentally disturbed." Darcy patted Peter on the arm.

"Yeah..." He muttered as he watched the five men wander around the yard. Stark was loitering near the fence, chatting with Banner, who had taken off his glasses. Lehnsherr was still glaring at Peter occasionally, but Charles kept kicking him in the shin. Rogers smiled and approached Peter. The young man felt his stomach drop in dread. Not again.

"Peter, come on, let me show you how to make a grasshopper. You used to love them, remember?" He smiled kindly. Peter stared dumbly.

"Mr. Rogers, I'm your orderly, not your son. I'm sorry." He tried to be as gentle as he could. Darcy had warned him not to aggravate the patients.

"No...you're our son. Tony and I adopted you when you were four..." Rogers looked like someone had gouged out his heart with a blunt spoon and fed it to a dog. Distressed tears welled up and he stumbled away, hands plucking at his hair distractedly and mumbling to himself. Peter's gut clenched as he watched the man's anguish.

* * *

"Petey, bring this to Clint Barton. These are his pills for the day." Darcy handed Peter a small cup with five multicolored pills in it.

He nodded dumbly and wandered back to the sixth ward. The only room not empty was at the end of the corridor, on the left. Peter took the key card and swiped it across the lock. It turned green with a soft click. He pulled the little window open and peered into the room.

It was empty.

Peter's heart lurched as he scanned the room. There was no one in the room, the bed was well made and the chair unoccupied. He pulled back to check the nameplate. Clint Barton WS009 was printed in blocky letters. He had gotten the room right.

Peter rushed to the nurse station, his hands flipping through the pads searching for the release code. His key card, unlike Darcy's, didn't have clearance to open the doors without an access code. He typed it in and hurried back to the room, swiping his card over the lock again and pulling the bolt open. The door swung inward silently.

No one was inside.

Peter stepped inside, staring in disbelief. There was no way a patient could have vanished in a locked room. The silence was eerily foreboding as he stepped further into the room. Peter felt the hairs rise on his neck.

He turned around just in time to see a strong arm crash toward his face. Peter stumbled back, loosing his footing and tumbling toward the padded floor. He expected pain, but nothing happened. Peter opened his eyes and saw that a man in a dark blue pinstripe suit had arrived without him hearing the man's steps. The suited man had caught Clint Barton's wrist in a firm grip. The smaller man struggled silently while the older looked down at Peter with bland distaste.

"You could have let a dangerous patient run free because of your ignorance." He said in a neutral monotone and offered Peter a hand, the other still tight around Barton's wrist. The shorter brunet man had stopped struggling, slumped against the wall and glared up at the man in the suit.

Peter hurriedly pushed his glasses up and took the hand. "Thank you."

He didn't realize he was shaking until he stood up. There was a thick knot in his throat, making his voice flutter and shake. Peter's heart thundered in his chest. Barton snorted and jerked out of the man's hold. He man in the dark suit offered Peter a hand.

"Phil Coulson, superintendent."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Coulson..." Peter managed to squeeze out. The man was still eerily silent and expressionless. There was an awkward pause.

"Call me Phil." He said finally in a toneless voice. He turned to Barton. "Clint, if you continue to misbehave, I will have to put you in solitary confinement."

"Mr. Parker, where is the medication?" He asked politely, turning back to Peter. The young man started and bolted to retrieve the pills he had forgotten at the front desk.

He was back in a second, slightly breathless as he handed over the medication. The superintendent gave the paper cup wordlessly over to Barton, grey eyes never leaving the man's face. Peter glanced between them as the short man took the cup and threw back his head, dumping the contents into his mouth. The air seemed to crackle with silent tension as they stared at each other, Barton's arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

Superintendent Coulson reached over without a word and pressed his bare fingers into Barton's mouth, checking if he had swallowed his medication with unnecessary force. Peter wondered whether he should offer the man a pair of instant gloves.

Barton's eyes were hooded as Coulson checked his mouth. When the superintendent pulled away, the shorter man wrapped his mouth around the last digit and sucked hard, making a loud wet popping sound when they finally broke away. Peter stared awkwardly, swallowing uncertainly when he saw a flash of darkness in the superintendent's grey eyes. Fingers lingered along Clint's mouth and the other man seemed to have lost himself in some sort of recollection.

Simply put, it was one of the most awkward moments in Peter's life.

He coughed. The superintendent flinched back as if coming out of a trance. Peter tried to hide his blush.

The other man took a few steadying breaths and glared at Clint Barton, who now looked extremely smug about something.

"Please go back to the yard." Phil finally said, breaking the thick tension. He adjusted his suit and brushed off a few imaginary dust particles and was his immaculate and composed self again. He departed without another word. Barton went over to the window seat and ignored Peter as he locked the door again and left for the yard, his cheeks still flushed.

* * *

When Peter finally got back to the yard, the five patients of Ward Six were coming back in, along with Darcy and the three security guards. Peter fell into step alongside Darcy as they walked toward the elevator, the guards glancing around at the five men. Rogers still looked depressed as hell and Stark shot Peter a disapproving look as he passed. Charles was once again, dealing small painful pinches to Lehnsherr's body and muttering something quietly to the man as they walked.

Peter sighed in relief as the last door slid shut in their ward and everyone was locked safely back in their rooms. Darcy grinned at him sarcastically and sidled over.

"So, how was your first day?" She asked.

Peter told her about the incident with Barton and Coulson. She rolled her eyes and showed him the cameras at the front desk which provided the surveillance footage of every room.

"Next time, check first. Barton is one of the troublemakers. You were lucky today when Supernanny intervened."

She smirked and punched him in the arm. Peter gave an uncertain watery smile back. Darcy leaned in secretively.

"Tomorrow I can show you around the Seventh Ward. Jane Foster, the doctor, is one of my close friends. Oh, and you'll get to meet Dr. Reed Richards, he's the attending psychiatrist for this floor."

Peter gulped and edged away from the woman. Seventh was the ward with the violent patients going for bodily harm if he remembered correctly.

Peter had a feeling he was so screwed.


End file.
